Chapter Text
The sun was making a valiant but largely unsuccessful attempt to get through the rocket-ship curtains in Nicholas Scratch's bedroom.
It managed a few thin streaks of orange across the carpet, catching on abandoned socks, three open science books, a plastic dinosaur that had somehow lost its tail during the night, and the half-constructed Lego spacecraft occupying most of the floor.
Nicholas himself was sitting cross-legged in the middle of it all.
He was supposed to be getting dressed.
He was not getting dressed.
He was attaching what he insisted was an ion propulsion system to the back of his spaceship.
"Nicholas."
No answer.
"Nicholas."
Still nothing.
From the kitchen, Agatha Harkness closed her eyes.
She counted to three.
"Nicky."
"I'm getting dressed!"
Agatha looked down at the kitchen table.
Nicholas's jeans were hanging over the back of one chair.
His shirt was beside her coffee.
His socks were under the table.
"You are literally not."
Silence.
Then—
"I'm thinking about getting dressed."
Agatha sighed into her mug.
Nine years.
She had been doing this for nine years.
She still hadn't worked out whether motherhood was supposed to become easier at some point or whether everyone had simply agreed not to tell new parents that they would spend the rest of their lives negotiating with very small people over trousers.
The toaster popped.
Agatha rescued the bread before it could burn, pushed a strand of light-brown hair away from her face and glanced automatically at the clock mounted above the kitchen doorway.
7:23.
They had thirty-seven minutes.
Plenty of time.
Probably.
Maybe.
The pile of student evaluations beside her plate begged for attention. Agatha ignored them. She had spent most of the previous evening marking them and had eventually fallen asleep on the couch with a red pen still in her hand.
Someone had covered her with a blanket.
She didn't have to wonder who.
The doorbell rang.
Agatha didn't even look toward it.
"It's open!"
The front door clicked.
Three seconds later, Rio Vidal appeared in the kitchen.
She was wearing faded black jeans, scuffed boots and a dark green T-shirt beneath an open jacket. Her black hair had been tied into something that had probably started the morning as a bun but was already losing the argument with gravity.
A canvas backpack hung from one shoulder.
There was soil on her sleeve.
Agatha stared at it.
"You've been awake for forty minutes."
Rio stopped.
Slowly looked down at her sleeve.
Then back at Agatha.
"Good morning to you too."
"Why is there dirt on you?"
"That's incredibly judgmental."
"It's seven twenty-three in the morning."
"Plants don't obey business hours."
"You work in a laboratory."
"Plants remain unaware of this."
Rio walked straight past her, opened one of Agatha's kitchen cupboards without asking and reached for a mug.
Her mug.
Not officially.
Agatha had never bought it specifically for Rio.
She had simply purchased four new mugs around two years ago and, through a process neither of them had acknowledged, the dark green one had become Rio's.
Just like the drawer beside the sink had somehow acquired Rio's preferred tea.
And one hook by the front door permanently held one of Rio's jackets.
And one shelf in the bathroom contained a toothbrush that nobody discussed.
Agatha watched her pour coffee.
"You're late."
Rio stopped with the pot halfway to her cup.
"I'm sorry?"
"Seven eighteen."
"Excuse me?"
"You usually arrive at seven eighteen."
Rio stared at her.
Agatha stared back.
"Do you track my arrival times?"
"No."
"You just told me my average arrival time."
"That doesn't mean I track it."
"That is quite literally what tracking means."
Agatha picked up her toast.
"You're very argumentative before caffeine."
"You were the one waiting by the window with a stopwatch."
"I wasn't waiting."
"Sure."
Rio stole the toast directly from Agatha's hand.
Agatha gasped.
"Vidal."
"Thank you."
"That was mine."
"And now it's ours."
"That's communism."
"That's friendship."
"You are a parasite."
Rio bit into the toast.
"A beloved parasite."
Unfortunately, Agatha couldn't argue with that.
Footsteps thundered upstairs.
"Nicholas!" Agatha shouted.
"I'm coming!"
"With clothes!"
A pause.
"Obviously!"
Rio leaned against the counter.
"He's naked, isn't he?"
"Probably."
"Good kid."
"Don't encourage him."
"I'm not encouraging him. I'm admiring his commitment to an alternative lifestyle."
Agatha gave her a flat look.
Rio grinned over the rim of her coffee mug.
It was irritating.
Agatha had known Rio long enough to identify approximately seventeen different versions of that grin.
That one was specifically reserved for irritating Agatha.
It had been appearing with alarming regularity for years.
Another crash came from upstairs.
Agatha looked toward the ceiling.
"Nicholas?"
"I'm okay!"
Rio called, "Did the spaceship survive?"
"YES!"
"Excellent."
Agatha pointed at her.
"Do not prioritize the Lego over my son."
"I asked if he was okay yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
"Consistency matters."
Nicholas finally appeared in the kitchen three minutes later, his dark hair pointing in approximately six different directions.
He was wearing one sock.
His shirt was backwards.
His jeans were unbuttoned.
Rio nodded approvingly.
"Strong look."
Agatha covered her face with one hand.
"Why do I even try?"
Nicholas climbed onto a chair.
"Aunt Rio, I finished the ion thrusters."
"I knew you could."
"They're detachable."
"Even better."
"And I think I can make the cockpit open."
Rio crouched beside him immediately.
"Okay, but here's the important question. Have you considered how your astronauts are generating oxygen?"
Nicholas froze.
Agatha watched the exact moment Rio destroyed her son's morning timetable.
His eyes widened.
"Oh."
"Rio."
Rio ignored her.
"Because if you're planning long-distance space travel—"
"Rio."
"—you need some kind of sustainable ecosystem."
Nicholas abandoned his breakfast.
"What about plants?"
Rio's expression became deeply serious.
"Now you're thinking."
"Rio."
"Algae could theoretically—"
"Rio Vidal."
Rio looked over her shoulder.
Agatha pointed toward Nicholas's untouched cereal.
"School."
Rio looked at Nicholas.
Nicholas looked at Rio.
Both sighed.
Agatha narrowed her eyes.
"You two are exhausting."
"She's cranky before eight," Rio whispered loudly.
"I heard that."
Nicholas giggled.
Agatha hated mornings.
That was a lie.
She loved mornings.
She just refused to admit it.
At 7:54, they left the house.
Agatha locked the door while Nicholas adjusted his backpack and Rio stood on the sidewalk holding three things that did not belong to her: Nicholas's lunch box, Agatha's travel mug and an umbrella Agatha had insisted nobody needed.
The neighboring front door opened.
"Oh! There you are!"
Agatha closed her eyes briefly.
Rio smiled.
"Morning, Mrs. Hart."
Sharon Hart stepped outside carrying a watering can and wearing a bright yellow cardigan that could probably be seen from space.
Nobody called her Sharon.
Agatha wasn't entirely certain why.
Everyone in the neighborhood called her Mrs. Hart, including people who had known her for twenty years.
Mrs. Hart herself seemed perfectly happy with the arrangement.
She lived directly next door and possessed the supernatural ability to know almost everything that happened on their street within approximately twelve minutes.
She was also, against all odds, rather fond of Agatha.
"There he is!" Mrs. Hart said, beaming at Nicholas. "Ready for school?"
"No."
"Wonderful."
Nicholas accepted this completely logical response.
Mrs. Hart's gaze moved toward Rio.
"And you're here early again."
Rio lifted Agatha's mug.
"Free coffee."
"I keep telling her she's encouraging you," Mrs. Hart said to Agatha.
"Thank you."
Rio put a hand over her heart.
"I thought we were friends."
"We are, dear. That's why I'm telling Agatha the truth."
Mrs. Hart turned toward her roses.
Then immediately turned back.
"Oh! Before I forget. The Hendersons are having people over Saturday. I warned them not to block your driveway again."
"Thank you," Agatha said.
"I told them you've got a child and two working parents in that house and don't have time for nonsense."
Silence.
Rio slowly looked at Agatha.
Agatha looked at Rio.
Nicholas looked between both of them.
Mrs. Hart blinked.
"Oh."
Rio pressed her lips together.
Agatha knew that expression.
She was desperately trying not to laugh.
Mrs. Hart waved a hand.
"You know what I mean."
"No," Agatha said.
"Yes, you do."
"I really don't."
"You two are always together."
"She's my friend."
"Of course."
Rio made a strangled sound.
Agatha turned.
"Don't."
"I'm not doing anything."
"Your face is doing something."
"My face is innocent."
Mrs. Hart resumed watering her roses.
"Have a nice day, girls."
"We're forty-one and forty-two," Agatha muttered.
Mrs. Hart waved without looking.
"Have a nice day, girls!"
Nicholas waited until they reached the end of the driveway.
Then—
"Mrs. Hart thinks Rio is my other mom."
Agatha nearly inhaled her coffee.
Rio looked suspiciously interested in the pavement.
"She does not."
"She said two working parents."
"She misspoke."
Nicholas considered this.
"Some people at school think that too."
Agatha stopped walking.
Rio also stopped.
"What?"
Nicholas shrugged.
"Last year, Ethan's mom asked if Aunt Rio was my stepmom."
Rio's eyebrows shot up.
"And what did you say?"
"That you're Aunt Rio."
"Good."
"And then she asked if you were Mom's girlfriend."
Agatha stared at her son.
"And?"
Nicholas shrugged again.
"I said no."
A beat.
"Then she said, 'Are you sure?'"
Rio lost the battle.
She laughed.
Agatha glared at her.
"This is not funny."
"It is a little funny."
"It is not."
"Ag, apparently your entire neighborhood thinks we're married."
"Nobody thinks we're married."
Nicholas raised his hand.
"My teacher did."
Agatha stopped again.
Rio bent over laughing.
"Oh, fuck off."
"Mom!"
"Sorry."
Nicholas thought about it.
"Aunt Rio says fuck."
"Constantly," Agatha said.
Rio straightened.
"That's character assassination."
"You taught my son the phrase 'botanical bastard.'"
"The plant deserved it."
The elementary school was only twelve minutes away on foot.
They had been walking the same route since Nicholas's first day.
At first, Rio had joined occasionally.
Then occasionally had become twice a week.
Twice a week had become most mornings.
Nobody had ever discussed it.
It simply happened.
Like most things involving Rio.
They passed the same bakery, the same bus stop and the same enormous magnolia tree Nicholas insisted on checking every morning.
"More flowers," he announced.
Rio tilted her head toward the branches.
"Yep."
"How old is it?"
"The tree?"
Nicholas nodded.
Rio stepped closer.
"Hard to tell without measuring it, but magnolias as a group are ancient. Really ancient. They evolved before bees existed."
Nicholas looked horrified.
"How did flowers work without bees?"
Rio smiled.
"Beetles."
"Really?"
"Really."
"That's gross."
"Beetles have feelings."
"No they don't."
"Science disagrees."
Agatha walked a few paces ahead of them.
She could hear Nicholas firing questions at Rio.
Rio answered every one.
Not impatiently.
Not distractedly.
Every question received the same consideration Rio gave researchers twice her age.
Agatha had noticed that years ago.
Rio never treated Nicholas like his thoughts were less important because he was a child.
Perhaps that was why Nicholas adored her.
Perhaps it was why Agatha—
She stopped the thought before it finished.
At the school gates, chaos reigned.
Parents, children, backpacks, bicycles.
Nicholas immediately spotted one of his friends.
"Mom!"
He hugged Agatha quickly.
"Have a good day."
"You too."
Then Nicholas turned toward Rio.
Rio opened her arms.
He ran straight into them.
"Bye, Aunt Rio."
"Go learn something weird."
"I will."
"And don't start a revolution without me."
Agatha sighed.
"Stop telling him that."
Nicholas ran away laughing.
Rio watched until he entered the building.
Agatha watched Rio.
That happened more often than she cared to examine.
"Agatha?"
She blinked.
Rio was looking at her.
"What?"
"You were staring."
"I was thinking."
"About me."
"No."
"You were looking directly at me."
"I can think in your direction."
Rio smiled.
Dangerous grin number eleven.
Agatha started walking.
"We're going to be late."
Rio fell into step beside her.
"Our workplaces are in opposite directions."
"Then why are you following me?"
Rio considered that.
"Good question."
Agatha looked at her.
Rio looked back.
Neither changed direction for another half block.
Friday nights belonged to Agatha's house.
Nobody remembered when that had started either.
Lilia claimed it had begun after Agatha's divorce.
Jen insisted it had begun years before that.
Alice maintained that it wasn't technically a tradition because half the time nobody informed Agatha they were coming.
Agatha maintained that all three of them were parasites.
Nevertheless, at six thirty that evening, Lilia Calderu arrived with wine.
Jennifer Kale arrived with takeout.
Alice Gulliver arrived with Nicholas, whom she had collected from an after-school activity because Agatha's staff meeting had overrun.
Rio arrived with dessert.
Mrs. Hart arrived with absolutely no invitation whatsoever.
She stood in the doorway holding a pie.
Agatha stared at her.
Mrs. Hart stared back.
"I made too much."
"That's an entire pie."
"Exactly."
Agatha moved aside.
Mrs. Hart walked in.
"This house has no boundaries," Agatha muttered.
Rio kissed her cheek while passing behind her.
"Nope."
Agatha froze for half a second.
Rio didn't notice.
Or pretended not to.
The kitchen rapidly became too small.
Jen was opening containers.
Alice was telling Nicholas about something one of her students—no, one of her coworkers; Agatha had stopped listening somewhere between the front door and finding plates—had done that afternoon.
Lilia sat calmly at the table as though she had always been there.
Mrs. Hart attempted to reorganize Agatha's cutlery drawer.
Rio was opening wine.
Agatha stood in the middle of her kitchen.
"This is my house."
Nobody answered.
"My house."
Jen looked up.
"Do you want noodles or not?"
Agatha considered.
"Yes."
"Then stop complaining."
Rio handed Agatha a glass of wine.
"Here."
Agatha accepted it automatically.
Alice saw.
Alice smiled.
Agatha saw Alice smile.
"Don't."
Alice widened her eyes innocently.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"I genuinely wasn't."
Jen looked between them.
"What?"
"Nothing," Alice said.
Lilia took a sip of wine.
"They're doing it again."
Agatha frowned.
"Doing what?"
Lilia looked at Jen.
Jen looked at Alice.
Alice looked at Rio.
Rio looked around.
"What?"
Mrs. Hart cut into her own pie.
"Oh, everyone thinks you two should date."
The room went completely silent.
Agatha nearly dropped her glass.
Rio blinked.
Alice covered her mouth.
Jen turned away.
Lilia closed her eyes.
"Mrs. Hart," Agatha said slowly.
"What?"
Nobody answered.
Mrs. Hart looked genuinely confused.
"What? You do."
"No, we don't."
"Well, somebody should."
Rio suddenly became extremely interested in opening another bottle.
Agatha pointed at Alice.
"You."
Alice immediately shook her head.
"Absolutely not."
"You started this."
"I literally haven't spoken."
"Your face did."
Rio glanced over.
"She says that to me too."
"Because both of you have irritating faces."
Jen snorted.
"See? Married."
"We are not married!"
Nicholas looked up from his noodles.
"You argue like Ethan's parents."
Rio started coughing into her wine.
Agatha stared at her son.
Lilia smiled serenely.
"I like him."
"You're all terrible," Agatha announced.
Alice finally gave in and laughed.
It wasn't that Alice, Lilia and Jen had always been Rio's friends.
They hadn't.
They were Agatha's.
They had known her through Ralph.
Through the divorce.
Through Nicholas being born.
Through the years in which Agatha had learned, slowly and painfully, what her life looked like when nobody else was allowed to define it for her.
Rio had entered separately.
At first, there had been a strange politeness.
Agatha's friends.
Agatha's Rio.
Two parts of her life cautiously inspecting each other.
That had lasted approximately six months.
Then Jen and Rio had discovered a shared talent for insulting people with clinical precision.
Alice had discovered Rio would enthusiastically help with almost any terrible idea.
And Lilia—
Lilia had simply looked at Rio one evening, smiled as though she'd learned something nobody else knew, and said,
"You'll be here for a while."
Rio had answered,
"Hopefully."
That had been four years ago.
Now they had a group chat Agatha wasn't entirely sure she controlled.
Possibly two.
Definitely one without her.
Dinner lasted almost two hours.
Nicholas eventually migrated to the living room with Alice, who helped him rebuild a section of his spaceship.
Jen and Rio argued about skincare ingredients.
Mrs. Hart drank more wine than Agatha expected Mrs. Hart capable of drinking.
And Lilia watched everyone with that irritatingly knowing expression she wore whenever Agatha suspected she was being psychologically analyzed.
Finally, Agatha sat beside her.
"No."
Lilia didn't look at her.
"I haven't said anything."
"You were about to."
"Interesting."
"What's interesting?"
"That you keep accusing people of thinking things about you and Rio."
Agatha narrowed her eyes.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
Across the room, Rio was crouched beside Nicholas and Alice.
Nicholas was explaining something with enormous hand movements.
Rio was listening.
Alice said something.
Rio laughed.
It was an ugly laugh.
Not graceful.
Not particularly feminine.
Too loud.
Her head tipped back when she really laughed.
Agatha knew the difference between Rio's polite laugh, her amused laugh and her real one.
That one was real.
Lilia spoke quietly.
"You know you can just look at her."
Agatha turned.
"I am looking at her."
"Yes."
The single word contained far too much meaning.
Agatha stood.
"I'm getting more wine."
Lilia smiled into her glass.
By ten, everyone began leaving.
Mrs. Hart left first because she had apparently remembered she was supposed to call her sister.
Jen followed.
Alice hugged Nicholas goodbye.
Lilia lingered at the door.
She kissed Agatha's cheek.
Then glanced toward Rio, who was standing in the kitchen rinsing plates.
Lilia's eyebrows lifted slightly.
Agatha pointed outside.
"Go."
"I didn't say anything."
"Go."
Lilia left smiling.
Agatha shut the door.
When she turned around, Nicholas was standing directly behind her.
She jumped.
"Jesus, Nicky."
"I'm tired."
"Then that's a fantastic sign that you should be in bed."
He rubbed one eye.
Agatha looked toward the kitchen.
"Rio?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you—"
"Already going."
Rio dried her hands.
Nicholas didn't even question it.
He took Rio's hand.
"Come on."
Agatha watched them climb the stairs.
Again.
She had been watching Rio a lot today.
Apparently.
She blamed Lilia.
Twenty minutes later, Rio came back down.
"He's out."
"Story?"
"Two."
Agatha looked impressed.
"Only two?"
"I negotiated."
"How?"
"I told him astronauts need sleep."
"Manipulative."
"Effective."
Rio moved toward the couch and collapsed dramatically onto it.
Agatha sat at the opposite end.
For a while, neither spoke.
The house had become quiet.
Almost unnaturally so after the noise of dinner.
Rio stretched her legs across the couch.
Her feet landed in Agatha's lap.
Agatha looked down.
Then at Rio.
Rio raised one eyebrow.
"Problem?"
Agatha should have pushed them away.
Instead, she rested one hand absentmindedly against Rio's ankle.
"No."
The television was on.
Neither of them was really watching it.
After several minutes, Rio spoke.
"Mrs. Hart's insane."
Agatha smiled.
"Completely."
"Everyone thinks we're dating."
"They're idiots."
"Obviously."
Silence.
Rio shifted slightly.
Agatha's thumb moved once against her ankle.
Neither noticed.
Or both did.
"Could you imagine?" Rio said.
Agatha snorted.
"You'd drive me insane."
"I already drive you insane."
"Exactly."
"You'd miss me."
"I already see you every day."
"Not the same thing."
Agatha looked at her.
Rio was still looking at the television.
Something strange tugged briefly at Agatha's chest.
She ignored it.
"We'd kill each other."
"Probably."
"Within a week."
"Three days."
"Two."
Rio smiled.
Agatha smiled too.
Then the doorbell rang.
Both frowned.
Agatha checked the clock.
10:43.
"Who the hell—"
"If that's Mrs. Hart again, I'm hiding."
"Why?"
"She'll try to marry us."
Agatha rolled her eyes and stood.
Rio's feet dropped from her lap.
The absence of their weight was unexpectedly noticeable.
Agatha walked toward the front door.
Nobody stood outside.
Only a large cream envelope rested on the mat.
She stared at it.
Even before she picked it up, something cold moved through her stomach.
The handwriting was elegant.
Precise.
Old-fashioned.
Agatha knew it immediately.
Rio appeared behind her.
"What is it?"
Agatha didn't answer.
Her fingers tightened around the envelope.
In the upper left corner was a return address she hadn't seen in nearly ten years.
Rio's joking expression disappeared.
"Ag?"
Agatha turned the envelope over.
Her name was written across the front.
Agatha Harkness.
And underneath it—
Ralph Harkness and Nicholas Scratch.
For several seconds, neither woman moved.
Then Rio quietly said,
"Oh."
Agatha laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"Yeah."
She tore the envelope open.
Inside was thick ivory card stock.
Embossed lettering.
Gold trim.
Of course.
Agatha read the first line.
Then the second.
Her jaw tightened.
Rio came closer.
"What?"
Agatha continued reading.
Rio touched her arm.
"Agatha."
Agatha finally looked at her.
"My mother is getting married."
Rio blinked.
"Your mother."
"Yes."
"The mother you haven't spoken to in ten years."
"Nine years, eleven months and—"
"Agatha."
"Yes."
Rio looked at the invitation.
Then at the names on the envelope.
"She thinks you're still married to Ralph?"
Agatha stared down at it.
Her mother knew.
Of course she knew.
That was the worst part.
Evanora always knew exactly where to place the knife.
Nicholas's name.
Ralph's name.
A perfect little family printed in elegant ink.
A life Agatha no longer lived.
A version of her daughter Evanora apparently still preferred.
Rio gently took the invitation from her hand.
Agatha let her.
"You're not going," Rio said.
It wasn't a question.
Agatha looked toward the staircase.
Toward the room where her son slept.
Then back at the invitation.
Somewhere inside her, an old and familiar anger stretched awake.
"Oh," Agatha said softly.
Rio recognized that tone.
Her expression changed.
"No."
Agatha looked at her.
Rio pointed the invitation at her.
"I know that face."
"What face?"
"That face."
"I don't have a face."
"You absolutely have a face."
Agatha crossed her arms.
Rio narrowed her eyes.
"Whatever you're thinking—"
"I'm not thinking anything."
"That's worse."
Agatha reached for the invitation.
Rio pulled it away.
"Rio."
"No."
"Give it back."
"Not until you promise you're not about to do something completely insane."
Agatha stared at her best friend.
At the woman who had eaten breakfast in her kitchen that morning.
Who had walked her son to school.
Who had spent Friday night with her friends.
Who had put Nicholas to bed.
Who had her own mug in Agatha's cupboard and a toothbrush upstairs and shoes beside the front door.
Agatha smiled.
Rio's eyes widened.
"Oh, fuck."
"Give me the invitation."
"Absolutely not."
"Rio."
"I know that smile."
Agatha stepped closer.
Rio stepped backward.
"Agatha."
"Rio."
"What the actual fuck are you planning?"
Agatha's smile widened.
Outside, through the shared wall of darkness between the two houses, Mrs. Hart's porch light switched off.
Upstairs, Nicholas slept peacefully.
And somewhere in Agatha Harkness's kitchen, a perfectly ordinary Friday night quietly came to an end.